thecapitol | My eyes are open wide

Entry tags:

My eyes are open wide

Who| Terezi, open to visitors.
What| Making it across the finish line means no reset for her. Terezi spends a few days in medical care to recover from her injuries.
Where| Hospital/medical room, etc.
When| Post Mini Arena.
Warnings/Notes| Talk of injury, etc.

If there was any situation that Terezi could point to and say that dying would have been the better option... This is probably it. Being stabbed was bad enough. The grueling trek to the finish line was worse. Did she really need so many medical staff poking and prodding at everything that hurt on top of that? Not as far as she's concerned.

That might be a lie, but anyone would be hard-pressed to get her to admit it. After regaining consciousness, Terezi spends most of the first day fading in an out of sleep. When awake and in the days after, most of her time is spent trying to keep up with the events going on outside of her room--or alternately, trying not to think about how that arena had ended. Not if they wanted her to keep food down, anyway.

There are times throughout the day when visitors are allowed in. She's not certain who she expects to visit her, but she tries to be awake for those hours nonetheless. Sometimes she is, sometimes she isn't. Either way, what will be immediately noticeable to any who know her is that the brand on her cheek is gone.

There is also a stuffed dragon seated on her bedside table. The Thank You card that it came with can be found dropped on the floor somewhere. She has a good guess who it's from, and she didn't bother to pick it back up again.

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Albert's not surprised Terezi is in the hospital instead of the Tower after her ordeal. He'd seen what happened between her and Felicity and it felt like his own family fighting to the death. Neither had actually died, but for that he can't be certain he's grateful. True, if they die then there's no guarantee of the Capitol returning them, but to actually have to convalesce and recover normally from such terrible injuries is a trial in itself.

He taps the rubber bottom of his cane against the edge of the door, hand without his cane full of a bouquet of red and teal snapdragons, which is what appears in the door as it swings open slowly, obscuring his face save for a shock of silver hair above it.

"Terezi?" His voice is hushed to make sure he doesn't wake her if she's not, but he hopes she's awake enough to say hello at least. It might ease the worry at the pit of his stomach that irreparable damage has been done to someone so dear.

Terezi isn't sleeping when Albert comes in. There's a bit of paper laid out over a small low table placed over her lap, and she's seated upright with her torso bandaged tightly beneath her hospital gown. She's scrawled a number of images in both crayon and chalk on the paper--clearly she's been at this for a while.

When the door opens and her name is whispered, she lifts her head to sniff at the door. The voice sounds very familiar, but... Well, there's nothing but a blur of red and teal where Albert's face should be. It's actually rather confusing, until she realizes what's going on.

"I have had a lot of strange visitors today, but a talking bouquet of flowers takes the cake."

There's a quiet chuckle as Albert steps inside, moving up beside her bed and resting the bouquet on the bedside table. "I thought you might like them. This color is yours, isn't it?"

He's referring to the teal, but red always comes to mind with her too, for whatever reason. Probably the glasses. Albert pulls up a chair and sits next to the bed, clearly intending to stay for at least a little while. "How are you feeling?"

"Yes, the teal is mine. The red is not--but I love it anyway. They smell delicious." It's probably a good thing that she can't lean far enough over to reach the flowers with her face. She might be tempted to lick them, and then his pretty bouquet would be ruined. Instead, she's forced to just smell them like a normal person.

"I am feeling okay, aside from the fact that my walking around privileges have been revoked for the time being. Apparently, the Capitol is concerned about my health now that I am not in a children's death arena."

He wouldn't have minded. He's witnessed her licking things around the commons before, he just accepts it as one of Terezi's quirks. After all, there are worse things she could be doing.

"Well, it would look bad if they let you drop dead after you placed at the end there." On the surface he tries to sound upbeat, at least a little, but there's concern threaded through his words and not just for her injuries in the Arena. He's worried about her being here in the hospital, a place he despises for personal reasons as well as general distrust of the Capitol.

Quieter, he puts his hand on the blanket, glove-clad to keep his metallic hands from practically freezing anyone who touches him. He doesn't take her hand, even if the thought crosses his mind, not with no comforting warmth in them. "We were watching, I think you should know. They grouped us together and had it playing on every screen."

He doesn't say it exactly, but he wants her to know he was rooting for her, that he regrets what Felicity did despite his rooting for her too, that the entire thing was painful to watch just as it was painful to participate in.

That they're still all in this together.

It would look bad, she has to agree. But she's not sure that the Capitol would care so much. It would be tragic, but not beneath them for a Tribute to "accidentally" die after completing their Game.

The mention that they were being watched, though, has a noticeable effect on Terezi. She looks surprised, and then a little worried. Her thoughts immediately go back to the course of the arena, trying to assess what sort of opinion her actions would have garnered. Helping Dave, but killing Gary... Attacking Felicity, but ending up the one injured... Making it to the finish line with Kurloz's help, only to stand there dumbstruck when they murdered him right beside her... She can't even figure out what to think herself, let alone what anyone else might think.

Her attention drifts down to the hand on the blanket. He's here. He came to see her with flowers, no less... so he must not think too badly of her.

"They told us at the beginning that there would be a point system to decide the winner. Hurting other tributes, killing other tributes... Those earned us points. Whoever had the most would win. It wasn't just about getting to the end of the race." There's a lengthy pause, and then Terezi touches her cheek, feeling the smooth skin where the brand used to be. "They said that if we killed another Tributes, they would take the brands away. I just wanted it gone."

"I heard, and I don't believe anyone can blame you for doing the best you could under the circumstances." He reaches over and places his larger hand gently over hers on her cheek, this thumb barely brushing against the newly healed skin there "It's alright."

He's not sure how to bring up what he talked about with Felicity, that she regrets so deeply what happened, how she acted at all, getting caught up in the Game in a bid to finally win and be done. That's how it happens, not a want for the spoils of Victory, not a desire for a crowning or to mentor other Tributes to be the best killing machines they can be, but just a desperate, clawing bid for relative freedom. How can anyone be blamed for the attempt? He's even thought of it once or twice, how easy it would be to go on the offensive with all his training and experience. In the end he knows he couldn't live with himself, not even if he laid down at the end to allow Jet, or Terezi, Venus, Felicity, or any of the other so much more deserving and desperate Tributes the crown. He can't let them make a killer of him again for no just cause.

But that's a personal choice, an internal conflict and while that same conflict likely goes on within most of the others as well, there's not always the same conclusion to be reached.

"I spoke to Felicity..." he starts gently, withdrawing his hand unless she makes a move to keep it there.

Terezi doesn't keep his hand in place, but she does appreciate the touch. She appreciates the comfort and the support. She appreciates being told that it's alright, and the understanding that comes with that. Most of all, she appreciates being able to believe him.

The news the he spoke to Felicity doesn't have quite the reaction that he might be expecting. She's not mad, not even close. But she does wince a little, more out of her own misplaced guilt than anything else.

"Did you? I can't imagine what she must be saying." Which is of course an invitation for him to tell her what has been going on with Felicity.

"That she regrets what she did." He sits back just a little, hand still on Terezi but moved to her arm instead. "That she wanted out so badly she was desperate and did things she is no proud of, including attacking you."

Albert watches Terezi's face carefully, judging her reaction. "I think she's too ashamed of what you may think of her to tell you herself."

"What." Terezi blinks, her brow furrowing in what has to be confusion, judging by the rest of her expression. That makes no sense in her head. What she expected to hear from Albert and what he is actually saying to her right now are two completely different things.

"Why would she care what I think of her? ...Actually, why would she regret anything at all, when I was the one who came at her first?"

"She was trying to win, she did quite a few things she wasn't proud of." Really Felicity had apologized to Albert for what she'd done to Terezi, because they're so clearly close, because Terezi is as good as family just like Felicity is. But he knows she worries about what people think, that Felicity wants to be accepted just as much as anyone, even in her exhaustion from the Arenas and desperation to escape. He wonders if there's perhaps a way to set it up so she wins or get a message to 13 to get Felicity out. He doesn't know, but he'll try to find out.

"She cares in general, I think. She wants to be victorious but wasn't prepared for the cost of what the Capitol defines as victory. I don't think the order of who stabbed who first really matters."

"I think we all do things we aren't proud of in there." At least she has, plenty of times before. She could probably add attacking Felicity to her own guilt list, if she was being completely honest about it. But she doesn't really want to say as much to Albert. He probably doesn't care, but she is pretty sure that she's already dropped enough of her distressed troubles onto his lap.

"You can tell her that I'm not mad at her, if you want. I don't really care what happened in that arena. I went in there for one thing, and I got it, so the rest is... whatever." Not entirely true, what with the way that Kurloz went out; but maybe if she says it enough, she'll start to believe it.

"I will if I see her, but I think it would be best for you two to talk. Who knows, you could make friends." He smiles a little at that, the idea a pleasant one for him. Adopted sister and adopted daughter getting along. "I suspect she wouldn't be upset with you either, considering. What you said is true, we all do things we aren't proud of in the Arena."

In the name of survival, in the name of escape disguised as victory, in the name of grief in his own case. That's usually where is weakness lies, grief and revenge, and what's worse is much of the time he doesn't even feel poorly for it. But that's his issue and not something he needs to add to the weight on Terezi already.

"Considering, I think you both simply did the best you could with the situation." A terrible situation that the Capitol is responsible for and no one else.

Terezi considers that thoughtfully, a frown still fixed on her lips. She's never sure how to handle the people she's attacked in the arena. As always, she expects them to be mad and take offense. Very few of the deaths in that place are just, and she wouldn't blame anyone who was mad at her for taking the chance to be free of that horror away from them.

Inevitably, she's always wrong, though. Wrong about Charlie, wrong about Anna, wrong about Carlos... And now, maybe she is wrong about Felicity, too. It doesn't make her feel any better, but it does make her consider the option to actually talk to her.

"I guess. Maybe," she concedes, which is about as close as she'll get to an outright yes. She feels a bit like a child being told that she should make up, but she doesn't have the energy in her to care right now.

"Are you done playing murder counselor yet?" she asks, after a moment of silence. It's easier for her to make light of this kind of situation than to fully acknowledge it.

"If you're done needing one," he gives a ghost of a smile, a sign that he's willing to let up since she's done enough to make jokes. "But would you mind if I added it as a title to my repertoire? I could have business cards made up. 'Albert Heinrich, Cybernetic Tribute and Murder Counselor.'"

He's never done this before, had quite this close a relationship with someone to where he actually began thinking of them as his responsibility in a fatherly way. Somehow, Terezi had wormed her way into his heart in a way that he hadn't considered and he finds it makes him react differently to her. Where if it were someone else trying to dismiss him he would back off, instead for Terezi he tries to make her laugh, to keep her spirits up. It's an odd feeling, very sentimental and warm, and it makes him want to continue so long as she'll allow it.

"Sure, knock yourself out," she chimes back, grinning and grateful for the escape she's been allowed to have. "If you are going to decorate your name with embellishments, then you might as well go all the way!"

Terezi assumed her haughtiest voice and continues as such: "Esteemed Counselor Albert Heinrich the First, Cybernetic Tribute Extraordinaire, and Professional Murder Councelor. For inquires into his services, please direct your calls to his secretary--" She drops the voice, making a vague gesture with your hand. "You can put whoever you want in there. Maybe Jet. Is he good at typing and telling everyone that you are busy and can't possibly take their calls right now?"

"I'm sure he'd look wonderful in a short skirt." Actually he really does, but it's not a sentiment he's ever seriously shared with anyone, let alone his husband. He'll just maintain it as a joke.

"And what's on your card, hm? Tribute and model Capitol citizen?" It's his invitation to somehow signal to him that what he's heard of her working with the Peacekeepers is a ruse, or that she's been forced into it, or at least that she's been meaning to tell him. He can't give her a hard time about it, not now, but it does hurt that she wouldn't bring it up at all.

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My eyes are open wide

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